Z Confetti Calamity ONESHOT
by Fanatical Writer
Summary: When Prentiss runs into Rossi at her mother's New Year's Eve bash, he rescues her from the Ambassador's clutches in a most comical way. ONESHOT


**This was written for the CCOAC New Year's Challenge, and my prompts were confetti, the ball drop, and champagne. My assigned pairing was Rossi/Prentiss. This **_**was**_** quite a challenge, particularly since I don't usually write Rossi as a secondary character, let alone a main one! I hope I've done him justice! **

"What kind of ensemble is that?" Emily Prentiss' mother hissed as she looked her daughter up and down disapprovingly.

Emily moved her champagne glass away from her body so she could look down at her chic outfit: a light blue pantsuit with a jacket that stopped just below her hips. A single button held it closed; you could see the white from her tank top beneath, as she'd chosen to wear something conservative. She lifted her eyes to her mothers and frowned. "The dignified kind," she answered, confused.

"Emily," her mother said huffily. "Men like _skin_. Men _give_ more when there's something to look at. How can we expect to exceed last years' numbers if we're not willing to play the game?"

"It's not exactly altruistic if you're expecting something in return, is it?" Emily shot back before she could stop herself. Arguing with her mother was atypical for her; she never bothered because there was no way she could win. Her mother would just keep going until finally, having had enough, Emily would walk away.

The truth was, Emily didn't want to be here this year…not that she did any other year, but normally she played the part of dutiful daughter and did everything expected of her. But this year was different. She'd been attacked a few days earlier when they'd been out of town on a case. Reid had found her in an alley in New York City and they'd rushed her to the hospital. She tried to tell them it was worse than it looked, but none of them believed her.

Still, a skirt wouldn't have been possible as the black and blues on her legs were still visible, and she didn't do nylons or tights. She'd had a hard enough time covering up the fading bruises on her face. "Mother—"

"I'm too disgusted to even talk to you right now," her mother spat, turning on her heel.

Emily sighed as she watched her mother depart. She'd known her outfit was going to be a bone of contention between the two of them, she just hadn't realized how much. It probably hadn't helped that she'd arrived too late to be fashionable.

If this was the start to her new year, she was in a heap of trouble.

* * *

Emily stood in one of the doorways leading to the large conference area and looked around—it was decorated to the nines. The room was tastefully done in dark blue and silver—her mother's signature New Year's Eve color palette. The center pieces on the tables consisted of clear pedestal bowls with elegant Christmas balls inside—coordinating colors, of course. They were placed just so—not too much silver, not too much blue. It was obvious whomever had put them together had spent many painstaking hours doing so. There were little vases sprinkled throughout each table holding blue irises—impossible to find in D.C. this time of year, but then again, her mother would have wanted everyone to know that. Classical music filled the air as the guests mingled—none of them were intoxicated, of course; they thought themselves much too distinguished for that.

Had it really only been half an hour since she'd last spoken to her mother? Emily grimaced as the woman headed towards her. God, what now?

"Emily," her mother said in a low voice once she reached her. She looked her daughter up and down distastefully. "Luckily I was able to get a hold of Weston, and he's delivered a _proper _ensemble for you. He's laid it out in the small conference room off the—"

"I'm not changing, Mother," Emily said firmly as she straightened.

The woman took a deep breath, obviously trying to compose herself. "Emily—"

"You know what I hate?"

Emily spun around at the amused tone that came from behind. Standing there with a champagne glass in hand, David Rossi gave her mother a look that could only be described as mocking. No one mocked the ambassador.

"Rossi," she said, equal parts surprise and relief. "What are you doing here?"

He ignored her question, his attention solely on her mother as he stepped forward. "What I _really_ hate is when someone treats one of my fellow agents with less respect than they deserve. _That's _what I hate." It was obvious to Emily he was fighting a smirk.

"Ahhh…David _Rossi_," her mother said distastefully. "If you will please excuse us, my daughter and I were having a private—"

He interrupted her. "Of course, I _love_ a good scene." He looked around. "Haven't seen one of those tonight. Have _you_, Ambassador?" he asked, his voice menacing.

Elizabeth Prentiss glared at him before turning her gaze back to her daughter. "Once you've rid yourself of your lapdog, come see me," she ordered before turning on her heel and walking away.

Emily's entire body sagged in relief as she walked her mother walk away.

Rossi gave her a sympathetic smile. "How ya doin', Slim?"

"I'm so glad to see you," Emily said sincerely. "What are you doing here?"

He grinned. "This was one of my ex-wives things. She used to force me to attend." He shrugged. "I like the cause, so I still come."

Emily bit back a grin at the thought of someone forcing David Rossi to do anything.

"Hour and a half until midnight," Rossi observed. "If we leave now, we can still see the ball drop at JJ's. I think I can get us out of here."

Emily laughed humorlessly. "How? The second I move toward the door, my mother's going to head straight for me."

"I'm going to create a diversion."

"What are you going to do?"

"I'll think of something," he promised.

Emily cleared her throat. "_Or_…we could act like adults and just walk out. I mean…how hard can it be to stand up to my mother? _You_ just did it."

Rossi chuckled. "You think you have _my_ mad skills when it comes to your mother?"

She winced. "You have a point there. But…I'm willing to try."

Rossi took her elbow and steered her towards the door. "I'll be right beside you," he assured her, looking over his shoulder for the ambassador. Luckily, she appeared to be engrossed in conversation and didn't even notice them. He came to a stop when he saw a random button near the entry to the room. "What…does _this_ button do?" he asked curiously.

Emily waved a hand towards the mechanism. "That? Oh, that—" A slow grin spread across Emily's face. "_That _is the button that releases the confetti."

Rossi nodded his head slowly, and Emily could practically see the wheels turning.

She couldn't help but laugh. " At _midnight_. Rossi, I see your face right now and I'm telling you—if you hit that button, my mother's head will blow into bits smaller than that confetti," she answered.

"So you don't want me to hit the button?" he asked regretfully.

"Oh, no—I _want_ you to hit it. I just want you to be ready to run like hell!" she told him.

Rossi pressed the button…and a confetti calamity ensued.

* * *

Emily practically threw herself into the passenger's seat of Rossi's SUV. She hadn't even finished buckling herself in before he was careening out of the parking lot. "Oh, my _God_," she said, breathless from her sprint to the vehicle. "I can't believe we did that!"

Rossi looked at her long enough to quirk a brow. "Are you sorry?" he asked.

"Oh, _yes_," she said sincerely. "That we couldn't stick around to see my mother's reaction!"

Rossi laughed heartily. "Emily Prentiss, you just might have it in you to stand up to that woman after all," he praised.

* * *

"What are you two doing here?" JJ asked in surprise as she opened the door. She immediately pulled Emily into a hug and giggled. "I mean…welcome!" she said heartily.

"Champagne?" David asked dryly.

"Streams of it," Will said as he appeared behind his wife. "I've tried to cut her off—"

"I'm not driving!" JJ argued with a hiccup.

Will chuckled. "So far it hasn't worked."

Will gently moved his wife aside so Emily and Dave could move into the room, and Emily's eyes immediately searched for Reid. Something had shifted in their relationship when he'd found her, and she couldn't help but naturally gravitate toward him now. She moved to his side and he gave her a soft squeeze, then let her go, his cheeks immediately pinkening.

"It's almost time for the ball to drop!" Penelope exclaimed, and then gasped as she looked from Dave to Emily. "And you two are _seriously_ lacking champagne!" She was quick to remedy that.

Emily couldn't help but smile as looked about the room: Reid was standing next to her studying the television—no doubt trying to figure out how the mechanism that would drop the ball worked. Morgan and Garcia—true to their fashion—were bickering about something; Will and JJ each had an arm wrapped around the other, Hotch was holding his sleeping son in his arms, and when her gaze finally landed on Rossi, he smirked as he lifted a brow and tilted his glass towards her. With a grin, she did the same.

"Five, four, three, two, ONE!"

As Emily watched the ball drop, she knew that she was exactly where she should have been—surrounded by her _real_ family.

**Author's Note: At a later date, I may expand on this from when Reid finds Emily battered in New York City and turn it into a Reid/Prentiss fic…not sure yet. Thanks so much for reading and I hope you've enjoyed it! - Angie**


End file.
